


Unhinged

by HalcyonFrost



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Dark Loki, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Instability, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalcyonFrost/pseuds/HalcyonFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was undone. Torn apart and disassembled like a puzzle, only to have all his pieces put together wrong. Missing here, not his own there, he was not himself. The only thing he can claim as his for certain is a name: Loki. And what parts of his mind were coherent knew that "Loki" was synomous with "monster." It was all he knew, and so he was.</p>
<p>(Rated M for graphic violence and implied torture. Non-detailed of each, but graphic enough to entail a warning to be on the safe side. Better safe than triggered.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unhinged

**Author's Note:**

> There's a ton of theories around Loki's fall, and I rarely find any that quite sit right as what I believe happened. Since it seems we're never going to know what's actually canon, have another fanon origin. I wrote it for my [The Hands We're Dealt](http://archiveofourown.org/series/62616) series,, but it pretty much is what I believe happened in all of my stories where Loki (or Tony for role reversal fics) fell from the Bifrost. My universal headcanon.
> 
> I've been having some shitty times, and tired of putting on a smile and answering "Pretty good!" when asked how I'm doing because people don't want to hear their cashier's life story, I posted this thing finally. So I can feel like a damn writer and manage to fight back a little against that voice telling me I'm just pretending at this. So there. It's been written for a while and sitting in my documents since October, but I didn't feel like posting it then. 
> 
> Have an angry fic posted now solely because _I'm_ angry and depressed.

There was sensation again. His fingertips curling into loose dirt and soil gathering under his nails. His body had edges and curves and bloated when he heaved in a rasping breath of dusty air. He had eyelids to open with eyes to see a painfully bright moon suspended in the sky above him and two dimmer moons to his left.

He could feel warm wet billowing up his throat and could register a brief thought that things were only supposed to go down that tube when it spilled into his mouth with such force that he was helpless but to turn on his side and expel dark red fluid onto the ground. Yes, he remembered that well. Dark and thick, life force, _that goes on the inside, brother_ in warm tones in his head from a man he no longer knew.

Moving brought such pain across every inch of him, inside and out, that he loosed a half-mad cry of laughter only because he could _feel_ again. It hurt to a mind-numbing extent, harsh to his newly reformed sense of hearing, but it was glorious, and it was his alone to cherish. Wonderful sensation after lifetimes of formlessness and agonizing darkness

Voices, aggressive and accusatory, pulled him to groggy attention as a gathering of green-scaled creatures advanced on his prone position. Their words were unfamiliar clicks and guttural growls of syllables that he couldn't answer. Then a soft whisper of translation in his mind: _who are you, how did you get here_. Even knowing the questions, he couldn't find the simple answers.

Silence bred more aggression from his would-be attackers, louder demands, threats, he knew even before the whisper returned with _tell us, leave or die, you're not welcome here, get out_ in growing vehemence.

He pulled his legs in front of him, contracted brilliantly physical and cohesive muscles to curl his spine and raise himself to sitting, summoning the control of more of his body to slowly stand on legs that quivered with disuse. Even so, he was taller than them now, though unarmed in contrast with their brandished spears and humming rifles.

_They dare threaten,_ us _? We'll enlighten them to their errors, brother._

A shout from one, a twitch of finger against the rifle's trigger, and he reacted before his mind caught up, ducking the blast and darting forward to knock the end away from him. Burning hot metal crumpled like paper in his fist as he jerked the rifle out of the creature's control and then slammed the butt of it back into its face. Instinct and muscle memory from eons ago when he'd last been whole dictated his violence, crushing throats with his bare hands and sharp juts of locked elbows to shatter bones on impact, the tapered end of a spear thrust through a soft abdomen, and then they were down. No more threats, only his own self left alive and breathing ragged breaths.

His hands were dripping with blood, clothes spattered with the cast off, and he felt a tug of memory at the sight.

_Who are you?_ , they had asked him before.

_This is who I am._

This was what he brought. This was where he belonged. Bringing death was what he was raised for. It was in his blood, in his upbringing. He was Loki - monster, bringer of chaos and death, and destroyer of life. And what a wonderful feeling it was to know one's self.

**xXx**

Finding his metaphysical self was far less important than finding his physical bearings. Loki wandered and fought, ripped into anyone that tried to block him, (re)learned to use words to convince the rest, and took what he needed when he needed. He walked for days and then slept a matter of hours before waking to travel again. It wasn't safe to rest. He had things to do and a realm (or was it realms?) to return to. 

Over the course of it all, Loki began to remember. He remembered "brother" ( _I'm not your brother! I never was!_ ) and all that it entailed. Remembered tricks ( _armor flaking away to cerulean skin_ ) and fear ( _I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!_ ) and realization that he could not win back what he'd never gained ( _"For you, father!" "No, Loki."_ ) and all the desperation and rage that followed it. He remembered falling (or was he thrown?) into this unknown level of Hel and left for dead, his only chance to survive - to save himself.

He was Loki. "Loki" was broken and shattered and never what he thought he was. He had no home, no family, and all truths were lies. Loki was nothing but pain. And now Loki had to rebuild from dust. He had become dust and reformed his physical self, but there was still work to be done beyond. And so Loki had to become something new, no longer associated with the betrayal of his pasts.

And to create, one had to destroy.

Rip up the foundations and rebuild them anew, built on the strong assurance that this was who he was - liar, thief, abandoned babe multiple times over. This was sure. This was a truth. Who he was and who he would become had to branch from this.

With the remembrance of "tricks" came the renewed revelation of his magic, but attempts to pluck the delicate strings of Yggdrasil proved to be abysmally ineffectual. They resisted and shrieked their displeasure into his head, berated him for daring to call control over them when he had no control over himself. He fought to own them, but it was as vain a task as stopping all the waters' tides. He was only able to find the right strings to move from one place to another by slipping through already weak rifts to transport himself, and twisting them just enough to create mirrors where he wasn't. Even reaching out to the space gem yielded little results. The time it would take for the human to create the device that could pull Loki from this world would take far too long. From this distance, he could only encourage them to work while being useless in furthering the slow process himself. Parlor tricks and existing loopholes was what he was reduced to using.

This would not do to sever himself from his past.

The rage festered and clenched cold claws over his heart. 

**xXx**

Loki was hunting one moment, overcome with a ringing agony in his skull the next, and waking in a cell after that. The wetness at the base of his neck spoke to what had happened, and he cursed himself and his situation equally. The only reason he didn't hate himself more was that the fetters on his wrists and the numbing poison in his blood were more important matters to consider. Everything around him stank of blood and sweat and rotting corpses and living but pestiferous flesh, and they all made it more than obvious that he was not the first to be held here and would most likely not be the last.

When they came for him, he refused to scream as they dug under his skin and removed parts of him to jars that were taken from the room, watched him as he shook and tried to reach for the strings to knit himself back together. The strings didn't yield, and he had to wait for his own body to heal itself slowly to a sharp ache before the knives came back and tore into him again over and over. He tasted his own blood, his own innards, his own fear, tasted the scream before it erupted unbidden from his throat, and how they laughed at him after.

Untold repetitions of the process filled his days, nights, and weeks until he lost track of what little time he'd managed to keep track of.

And then it stopped. And the next place they brought Loki was into the company of a creature with six fingers upon each hand and dirty gold metal in a mockery of a mask to further obfuscate a face already shrouded with a hood. All this to hide a deformity, Loki realized when light at just the right angle revealed the slightest of the visage behind such great attempts to conceal it. Deformed or not, sweet words or not, Loki would have been a fool to trust such a being. He could scarcely stand on his own from the exhaustion and the heat sapping his energy even outside of the sweltering warm cell they had contained him in. Loki was in a place of weakness, and this being was offering him power and release from this world. In exchange for an answer.

Loki held tighter to the rock formation he was propping himself again and narrowed his eyes as he watched the being stalking in long strides back and forth and in an uneven circuitous pattern, always in motion. "What answer could I give that would afford me all you offer?" Speaking actual words after so long was difficult; his throat was dry and scratchy, making speech not only painful but unpleasant to the ear. He sounded like the monster he had come to know he was.

"The House of Odin once held a treasure." The being rasped, trailing its furthest thumb across the wall of rock leading to a floating spiral of stairs. "Long ago, it was left elsewhere to protect it. My Master wants it in his possession."

"And why does your master not send you?" Loki allowed himself a short exhale of mocking laughter, painful though it was to endure. "A man offering power surely has enough of his own to retrieve what he desires."

"We have no knowledge of its whereabouts." The being explained, voice tighter in irritation. "That's where you come in."

"I'm no tracker dog."

"No, but you're of Odin's house."

The only reason Loki didn't stiffen was because he lacked the muscle strength to do so. "I don't know what you-"

"Loki."

Loki's rejections ground to a halt, and fear raked sharp talons down his spine and clouded his retorts. A malformed hand gestured to the engravings still on Loki's vambraces, and Loki would have stabbed himself if he could have. _Sentiment_ had prompted he keep the engravings, and this was what happened. He should not have held onto sentiment.

"Formerly of House Odin. Obviously not anymore as no one sane would travel The Void with any delusions of returning through it again. Odin's house is no longer yours. But you still know its secrets. And you know of the Tesseract."

Oh, yes. Loki knew of the Tesseract. He knew of the astronomical power it held and of the terrible destruction it had aided across several realms. And he knew where it was.

"Your silence is answer enough." The new smug pleasure in the being's tone was trouble for Loki's hopes of survival.

To tell would be to accept the destruction of that world. That little realm that had changed Thor in just three days, showed him everything he had done wrong, all because a pretty face gave him a pretty smile and said pretty words that made more of a difference than Loki's attempts over a thousand years of trying to teach Thor.

"It's on the human world. We called it 'Midgard.' They called it 'earth.' The humans have long been seeking to wield its power. Taking it from them will be easy."

Wrinkled lips parted to bare blood red teeth. "Good. Bring us the Tesseract, little godling, and we'll give you the forces to conquer the world."

Untold power in exchange for a tiny planet of apes, and Loki would have to fight for Midgard in the first place. Even Loki in his prime as a silver tongue would know better than to try and sell such an unequal deal. If he gave them the Tesseract, Midgard wouldn't be his for long. These beings would destroy it along with the rest. A stupid trade. There was only one answer.

"No."

**xXx**

It was another week of tortures even worse than had been previously subjected to him when he was dragged back in front of the negotiator.

"My master has deemed you worthy of a second chance, godling. Only because you are of a small use to us. Consider yourself lucky."

"My answer hasn't changed."

"Hasn't it?" The guards - Chitauri, Loki had learned they were called - pulled Loki back into an upright position instead of the hands and knees, retching mouthfuls of blood and bile into the dry dust they called dirt.

"I told you where it was. Command your own forces to fetch it for the one pulling your strings."

"You would forfeit the chance to return to your worlds?"

"Not my worlds anymore."

"Did they tell you not to return?"

"I have no need to obey them even if they had ordered such a thing!"

"Then why bother leaving at all?"

"They lied! About everything!" Loki would look back and realize their manipulations, but it would be weeks before he saw such a thing. He would hate himself for falling victim to such shallow methods, but he hadn't the strength at the time to think with a clear head.

"Enough."

The being bowed back as a titan of a being appeared around the corner of the spiral stairs, descending with such heavy footsteps as to shift each suspended step with the weight of his body. At his full and healthy height, Loki wouldn't so much as come to this creature's chest.

"My lord, Thanos-"

"I said enough." Thanos's voice was clearer, but still a baritone fit to make stone shiver. He was a calm force of formidable power and knew his effect on people so well that he had no need for anger or hissed threats. "You've met my other." He strode to stand in front of Loki, towering above the Jotunn's form and setting to make Loki feel smaller than ever. "But perhaps the time has passed to deal with middlemen. The deal you'll make will be with me. And you _will_ make a deal with me."

"And if I say no again?"

Thanos rumbled a small laugh. "You won't. Earth is personal for you. Neither I nor my Chitauri care of its fate or its existence. We would raze it to the ground to obtain the Tesseract, if we must."

"Then what need have you for me?"

"We need an ally. A commander for an army. My other has no mind or talent for this. You do. And imagine the pain you'll cause to the house of Odin that a realm under its protection should fall under the boot of one of its rejects?"

Loki sneered, found enough strength for that and spit at Thanos's boot. He shoved back the agony that shot through every nerve and forced himself to stand and gain what little stature he could in this... _discussion_. "I am no reject."

"They rejected you. That makes you a rejection, pure and logical. It does not make them right for doing so. They should have killed you instead."

Loki could only growl, furious and terrified and running on adrenaline fueling what little he could coerce his body into doing. "Then why don't you finish the job for them?"

"Because their mistake was allowing a threat to live. We have common interests, godling. You'd be a fool not to see it. You have no power to kill me, so I have no desire to eliminate you. I'd rather use your skills in my favor, just as you'll be using my resources in your favor. Return to your worlds, take them for your own, and all you have to give in return is the mere pittance of the Tesseract."

So that was the deal. Loki wasn't a threat and wouldn't be so long as they tortured the strength out of him. They were making the same mistake that they were claiming Odin had made. Only instead of dangling affection as a bait to gain his complacency, they were dangling an unspoken threat of returning Loki to his cell until he said yes to their terms. They were aiming to make him a puppet as well, and Loki wouldn't tolerate it a second time in his life. Not so long as he could see this one coming.

Loki couldn't regain his strength enough here. But he could recover on earth. And so there remained only one answer again.

"I'll need to reach out to the Tesseract. Awaken it so that I may pass and use it to create a larger portal for your army to cross over."

"How long will this take?"

"A day. Two at most. Prepare your armies. I'll give them a world to break. And when earth is mine, I'll give you the Tesseract."

Thanos stared imperiously down at him for a few moments. "Swear it, godling."

_Ah._ "I swear upon my magic that you will get the Tesseract once I win the earth. The Chitauri will return victorious with your trinket in their possession. I swear it." And if Loki had to wallow in the mud and the dirt and cover himself in the blood of however many it took, he would make sure that the earth was not won. Power like the Tesseract could not be given to the likes of Thanos. Loki would swear upon all that he knew of himself that he would not allow the Titan this victory by any means necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I go with this? I got the idea from a scan I saw of the comics made to go with MCU 'verse (which I know can't seem to find, so if you know the post I'm talking about, please do send me the link). Odin said something about Loki couldn't have survived because the void would have torn and destroyed him (spaghettization) into thousands of pieces, and no one can go through that and live. I didn't believe in the "Loki was mind-controlled" theory either, and while I always believed he was tortured by the Other (because Loki was too terrified of them to not have something pretty serious happen), I didn't think it was constant physical torture. There are so many kinds of torture beyond physical. So this was what happened when I put all that together.
> 
> Maybe tomorrow I'll remember to boost this on my Tumblr too (halcyonfrost.tumblr.com for anyone that doesn't know), but since this is a ship-less fic, I doubt I'll get much traffic on it outside of my own followers.


End file.
